In His Hands
by JenF
Summary: I’ll never know how he manages to understand me. I guess it’s a family thing. Sam is reluctant to say anything and the pause is so long I wonder if he’s going to deny me this final piece of the puzzle. Disclaimer: still not mine :
1. Chapter 1

Huh. Long fingers. Never really noticed that before. Were they always that long? Don't remember right now. Although, don't really remember much of anything at the moment.

Ow! Sonavubitch! That hurt! Who'd have thought those fingers could hurt so much? Oh wait, it could be something to do with that bone poking out. Is that my arm? Crap – I think it is. What the hell happened here?

"S'mmy?" Ooh – that didn't sound good. Might have to try again. "S'm?"

Ha! That got him. Now he's looking worried. Must be bad.

"Dean? How you doing?"

How do you think I'm doing Sam!? I've got a bone poking out of my arm and I'm contemplating your fingers! I'm just great.

"'m good S'mmy." God, I'm still croaking. Wish I could remember what happened here. Come to that, where is here? It's so damned dark in here. And cold. And damp. "Wha' happ'n?"

Now he's just looking at me again, looking worried again. Any minute now … yup, here it comes. There's his hand again with those long, long fingers. Huh – on my forehead this time. Feels kinda nice actually, though I'll never tell him that – far too chick flick. Didn't realise how warm his hands are. Or maybe I'm cold. Either way I don't really want him to take it away just yet.

"Dean? Open your eyes, Dean. C'mon dude."

Open my eyes? Haven't shut them, dude. Oh, wait, yes I did. When did that happen? And where did that hand go? I was enjoying that. And why won't he tell me what happened here?

Oh, crap!! That's where his hands went. Might have grunted a bit there.

"I don't think any of them are broken, maybe cracked." A pause. "I'm sorry, Dean."

He's sorry? What the hell for? Actually I don't really care right now cos that arm is starting hurt like a bitch and there's a pounding right between my eyes that I'm sure wasn't there a minute ago. Maybe I should just close them for a bit – just a bit.

"Dean – no! Stay with me, man. Don't go to sleep. Please."

I'm sorry, Sammy. I really am. I don't want to scare you, and I know I am, but right now, even the magic word can't keep me awake … I'm sorry.

"Dean? Dean? C'mon man. Please. Open your eyes for me here. I need your help. C'mon." Jeez – doesn't that boy ever know when to shut up? My head's killing me here, Sam. A little peace and quiet wouldn't go amiss. And stop poking my shoulder like that. That's not the way to get into my good books right now. If you do that one more time I swear I'm gonna punch your lights out. Later though.

"Dean. You're scaring me, dude." I know I am, Sammy. I'm trying to open my eyes. I really am. Hah. Here we go. I can do this, I know I can. Jeez – who turned on the lights in here? Come to that, where is here. It's not where I closed my eyes I know that much.

"S'm? Where are we?" Woah – talk about in your face. He couldn't get much closer to me if he tried. And he's still looking worried, and a little bit scared if I'm honest. Did I put that look on his? Oh crap, I think I did.

"God, Dean. You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice."

Okay, so that's got me confused again now. I'd think about it a bit more if my brain wasn't trying to break it's way out of the top of my skull. The light isn't helping. I'll close my eyes for a few seconds, just till my head settles down.

"Dean??" There's a hand on my forehead now. I don't need to look to know that it's that little brother of mine – again. He's always been the touchy feely type. Must have come from Mom cos he certainly didn't get it from Dad. The only touchy feely Dad ever does is a quick, manly hug when he thinks no-one's looking or a swift backhander, although he only ever does that when he's really pissed. And I suppose most of the time I deserve it. And Sammy… Hell, that boy could wind up a saint so Dad stands no chance.

"Dean? C'mon, wake up."

Oops – sorry, bro. Forgot you were there for a minute. Which reminds me, where is here? You've still not told me. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? You'll have to tell me, thinking hurts too much. And it's so damn bright in here too. Can't you do something about that. And why are you looking at me like that? And who the hell is that in the corner? God, I hope she's not just some part of my fantasy. Tell me she's real, Sammy.

"Has he woken up?" Oh honey, I'm wide awake now.

"Just. He still doesn't remember where he is." Hey, Sammy – keep your eyes off her. She's all mine.

"That's to be expected. He should remember more each time he wakes up. Try not to worry, Sam."

"It's been hours …"

This looks interesting. She's got her eyes on him now and I know that look. Been on the receiving end of it often enough myself. Most recently with Abby. Gotta love Abby. They're so into each other they've forgotten I'm here. Perhaps I should do something about that.

"Sam?" Yep, that got his attention back. And hers.

"I'll go fetch the doctor." And she's out the door.

Well, at least I know where I am now – Sam's taken me to a damn hospital. It must be bad. I try to sit up a bit. I'm fed up of being down here, feel like a specimen and if my hunch is right I'm going to be prodded like a pin cushion any minute now. I'd like to maintain some sense of dignity. My arm is in plaster from wrist to elbow which doesn't help and Sam's got his hands on my shoulders now, helping pull me upright. He's good. He goes slow so when the room starts to spin and swirl he's there to steady me, although my stomach might disagree. I swallow repeatedly, trying to keep the bile down.

Sam helps me the rest of the way up and reaches behind me to plump up the pillows. But now my face is in his shoulder and I can tell he's not hit the shower for a while. I don't mind though – I guess I'm no beauty pagent queen either right now. I'm in no rush to move. Feels kinda nice. No way I'm ever telling him that though. I can feel the blood pulsing through his veins at his neck and he feels so … alive.

He lowers me back down gently and passes me a cup of ice chips. Now I think of it, I am pretty thirsty. God, that feels good on my throat. Don't cough it up again, Dean. Hold on to it. My stomach's protesting, don't think that… no, here it comes.

Yep, that was definitely breakfast. Sorry, Sammy. Didn't mean to throw up all over you. Still, I bet that nurse will be happy to help you change. And you'll be quicker with that paper bowl thingy next time. Maybe I should just lie back down again.

"Woah, Dean, hold on." And there he is, easing me back down again with those strong, cool hands of his. His fingers are digging in to my back a bit too hard but it's okay – kinda reminds me of when we were little and he used to hang on to me when he was scared of something. I'm so tired now. I know the doctor is coming but I really don't want to deal with that just now. I'm gonna close my eyes again for few minutes … just for a minute or two.

tbc…


	2. Chapter 2

Woah! That's not quite the interaction I was hoping for with you, sweetheart. Quite some wakeup call you got goin' on there.

Damn it – didn't even get her name. Maybe Sammy caught it. Come to that, where is Sammy? And when did it get dark out there? I only closed my eyes for a minute. Was that window there earlier? Whatever these drugs are – they're good. Feeling a little lightheaded over here. Could really do with Sam coming back from wherever he is. Ha ha – bet he hooked up with that cute little thing from earlier. About time too Sammy. God, what I wouldn't give to be in your shoes right now.

Aw, Sam. What're you doing back here? You should be out getting laid, not looking at me like that.

"Dean. God, I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd wake up before I got back. I shouldn't have left you. I'm so sorry." Here he is, coffee in hand. At least I think it's coffee. Oh, now it's on the table and he's reaching out to me. If I could just get this damned arm up off the bed I might stand a chance of deflecting him. Nope, too slow Dean. Gotta work on that speed. Probably ought to answer him too.

"I'm good Sam, it's okay." Time to sit up again. Going to do it slowly, like before. Sam's already in position. The way that boy reads my mind – downright creepy at times. A little huffing and puffing and I'm up. Room doesn't seem to be moving too much. My head must be getting better. Sam's face is right in front of mine.

"Dude, personal space." He's got the grace to look apologetic at least and he's backing away. Don't go too far Sammy, I've still got too many questions here. Okay, he's getting comfy. That's good. That means he's staying. No way I'm going to be needy here but if he's got nowhere else to be I don't mind him hanging out here.

"Do you remember what happened, Dean?" Don't be silly, Sam, I can't even remember what day it is. My face must be more expressive than I give myself credit for. Sam sighs and leans forward, elbows on knees, chin resting on his hands, hair – God, that hair needs sorting out.

"Millie?" He looks kinda hopeful and disappointed all in one. How does he do that? And what the hell does 'Millie' mean? Is that supposed to bring it all back to me? I've never heard of Millie, or at least, I don' think I have.

"Is she hot?" I know I'm smirking, I can feel the muscles in my face moving and Sam's looking exasperated now. It's awesome how I can do that to him, even on my worst day. That boy needs to lighten up – I keep telling him that.

"Dean." That was more of a whine than anything. He sounds about seven. "You don't remember Millie? She called us two weeks ago. We've been here for ten days already. You don't remember any of that?"

Well Hell, no, Sammy. If I remembered any of it do you think I'd be looking at you like this?

"I guess you're just going to have to clue me in a little here, Sam." And he's going to have to make it quick. Those painkillers are wearing off and my head is starting to make it's presence felt again. All of a sudden there seem to be two of him and, woah, right in my face again.

"Dude, you okay?" No, not okay Sam, not okay at all. He's reaching for the call button and I really, really don't want him to do that but the pain in my head is getting worse. I'd like to know what I did to it to make it so bad but I guess that's going to have to wait because here's that nurse that's got her eye on my little brother. Have to say, if he's gonna go for it, then she's the one.

She takes one look at me and I can see the sympathy in her eyes. It seems that even she knows more about what happened than I do. I'm starting to get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach and I don't think it's got anything to do with the concussion anymore. Millie is coming back to me and I don't want anything clouding my mind. I need my head in the game now. There are snippets at the edges of my memory that I can't quite grasp.

She checks my vitals, gently manoeuvring Sam to one side so she can get to the IV in my hand. Her hand is wrapped round my good wrist and she's counting in her head. She smiles at me in the way that nurses always smile but just this side of patronising. I catch a glimpse of her nametag – Kirsty. That's good to know.

"How's the pain, Dean?" she asks, the epitome of efficiency. "Scale of one to ten."

Are we talking everyman scale, or Winchester scale? Cos on the Winchester scale it's about a 'fine'. On the everyman scale I'm pushing a ten, no problem. I go for the middleman.

"It's been better, I guess." Uh oh – I'm thinking that by the look on Sam's face, that was the wrong answer. Before I know it he's right beside me again, looking at that cute nurse. I wish I could see his eyes cos I'm pretty sure that there's something going on between them. She smiles reassuringly.

"That's to be expected. After a fall like that, you're bound to have a concussion. It's not the worst I've ever seen but it's not far off." She turns to Sam. "I've upped his dosage so the pain should be manageable. Keep an eye on his speech and don't wear him out."

Hello? Right here, remember? No need to talk about me as if I'm a child. But at least I've got some idea of the cover story Sam's spun. I had a fall apparently. I wonder how much of that is based in truth.

Kirsty's gone. She must have those magic slippers that just transport people cos I sure as hell didn't notice her leave. Maybe that upped dosage has something to do with it.

Sam's looking at me, again. Man, I should get him a picture. Lasts longer and I wouldn't have to concentrate for so long. Hey, weren't we having a conversation? About Millie? Crap, Millie. It's coming back to me in bits and pieces. And I don't like what I can remember.


	3. Chapter 3

So, the headache has gone and so has that pain in the ass doctor who took such delight in poking me in places that my injuries certainly don't warrant. Think Sammy's still here. That or some freak has set up camp in the corner. I can see by the gentle rise and fall of his chest that he's finally asleep. About time. I thought I was going to have to sneak something into his coffee.

I can't remember when he last got some real rest. Still can't really remember why we're here even. He asked me about Millie again before the doctor pushed him out to 'give us some privacy'. I lied to him. Told him the name meant nothing to me. Out and out lie. I should be ashamed of myself. I do remember her - bits anyway. I remember what brought us here but not why. It was a phone call from Pastor Jim asking us to check up on one of his ex-parishoners. He wouldn't say much else, just to do it soon if we could.

Sam thought we should contact her first so he called ahead as I was driving. She wouldn't say much over the phone - can't say I blamed her. She was probably scared we'd think she was crazy, although to be honest, I'd heard crazier by the time I was ten years old. She had a problem that Jim had assured her we could take care of for her and would we come out to Rapid City as soon as possible. She'd added a plaintive 'please' just for good measure. Should've known Sam would fall for that. He's always had a soft spot for the damsel in distress type.

I think we got here just over a week ago, although Sammy said it was ten days. Gotta go with him on this for now - details are all a bit fuzzy still. Drove out to Millie's farmstead and boy, was that worth the trip. Millie greeted us with a warm open smile and eyes that didn't quite trust us. I liked her from the get go. She had these beautiful... well, she was beautiful, let's just leave it at that.

Jeez – this pit in my stomach seems to be growing. What the hell happened out there? I'm gonna have to ask Sam. I'm not sure what's scaring me most here, the fact I can't remember or this feeling things didn't go well out there. I wonder when I can get outta here. This place is doing nothing for my memory, although the painkillers are pretty awesome. I bet Sam can score some of those before we leave. C'mon Sam, wake up, I wanna go now.

Oh, perfect timing. Here comes nurse Kirsty again. And there's my boy. Shows how tired he is. He should be on full alert and there he is, dragging himself into consciousness like a sullen teenager.

"How are you feeling this morning, Dean?" Oh, I'm good, sugar, I just wanna break free now.

"Better for seeing you," I smile at her and in the corner I can see Sam coming to his senses. Is that a little jealously I spy in his eyes? Why yes, I think it is. I turn my smirk on him. This is too much fun.

"I'm sure," she's obviously heard all the corny pick up lines in the world. Still, can't blame a guy for trying. "The doctor will be here in about half an hour." She fusses around for a bit, rearranging pillows and IV lines. Then she turns to Sam. "And how are you this morning?"

Sam turns an interesting shade of pink. It's a cute look on him, matches his stutter when he replies.

"I'm fine, well, could've slept a bit better but …" Kirsty smiles at him in a way she didn't smile at me.

"Well, all being well, you'll both be in your own beds tonight." And that is the best news I've heard since I first woke up. Sam looks relieved too. I think, but I'm not sure, that's because he's played the waiting game in too many hospitals, in too many States. We both have.

Kirsty must have upped those pain killers cos I think I zoned out for a few minutes there. She's gone and Sam's right by my side again. Not sure how he does that. For someone so big he shouldn't be able to move so stealthily, or at least not in such a confined space. Then again, maybe it's just me.

"How you doing? Really?" He's looking more refreshed than last night but I can still see the residue of worry, the creases in his forehead give him away.

"I just wanna go, Sam. Think you can bust me outta here?"

"Half an hour, Dean, you can't wait half an hour till the doctor signs you out? Seriously?" Talk about putting a guy in his place. I sink back into my pillow and glare at him. He starts to fidget and I know what's coming. He can't hide anything from me. Any second now he's gonna ask…

"What do you remember, Dean?" I open my mouth to tell him 'nothing' but before I can get the words out he jumps in, "And don't tell me 'nothing' cos we both know that's bullshit."

"I remember Millie," I sigh. The ceiling in here is real interesting. Did you know if you line up all the indentations up there you could make a line that stretches to the moon and back? I get to 38 before Sam interrupts my meditation.

"And?"

"And I think we screwed up, Sammy. I think she's dead because of me." And there's the crux of the whole affair. I think I killed her, or maybe just couldn't save her. Either way, when I think of her it's always in the past tense. I look down from the ceiling, directly at Sam. He can't hide stuff from me and the look on his face now rocks the foundations of my world. I wasn't sure before but now, with Sam looking at me with that mixture of sympathy, pathos and guilt, I just know that Millie is gone.

"I'm sorry, Dean. We did everything we could. I know you liked with her." He looks uncomfortable for a moment and reaches out to me. Half way to my shoulder, his hand stops and he looks at it as though it's got a mind of its own and he doesn't know how it got there. He's unsure whether to let it carry on its journey or whether to bring it back home. With the confirmation I just got and the effect of the painkillers, I really hope he lets it go on. I could do with something to ground me right now and he's all I've got. I guess he knows me as well as I do because his hand is on my shoulder and it's weight is comforting in its solidity. The room is swirling and to my shame I feel wetness trailing down my cheeks.

"What happened, Sam?" God, I hate how pathetic I sound. My voice is breaking because of the drugs in my system. It's nothing to do with the tears obscuring my vision. I hope the doctor doesn't choose this touching moment to come and check me out. But apparently that's too much to ask.

Since when did the Winchesters catch a break?


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N - I know I only just updated this - what can I say? I'm on a roll today. Don't expect updates this quickly normally :)**

* * *

Well, I sure remember this motel room. Sam thought it would be best to come back here once the doctor discharged me, with a prescription for about a thousand painkillers and a stern warning to take things easy for the next few days. Apparently my head is no longer cause for concern and my ribs aren't broken, just severely bruised although there is a hairline crack on one of them. Which would explain the excruciating pain every time I take a deep a breath. My arm can come out of plaster in eight weeks. I can live with that I guess, although Sam already seems to be planning some horrific physio for me after that. He swears blind that without it I'll be as useful as a Care Bear on holiday. He always was prone to exaggeration.

He's gone out for food and I'm glad of the opportunity to be alone for a bit. Leaving the hospital was a bit of a blur. The drive here even more so. Travelling back I caught glimpses of places that hover on the edges of my mind. I know we were at the bar down the road. I know the dirt track about two miles out has been travelled recently. And I know where Millie died. If only I could remember how.

Bits are coming back to me and as I recline on the bed, switching through a hundred crappy TV channels, I reflect on how permanent Millie had seemed. I really can't for the life of me figure out how it all went so wrong.

The knock at the door is completely unexpected and throws me for a loop. Sam has keys and as far as I know, we're not anticipating visitors. It takes me far longer than I would like to get my feet under me and I thank Sam's foresight for leaving my gun on the nightstand. Once it's resting reassuringly in my hand I hobble my way over to the door and squint through the peephole.

There's some guy standing there, looking about as nervous as I feel. I wonder if I know him and if I actually need the gun. He doesn't look like he's a real threat, not even with the condition I'm in right now. I reckon I've got about four inches on him and about 25lbs of pure muscle. I think it's fair to say this guy's a bit of a weed. I can't see any concealed weapons from where I'm standing so I decide to open the door. I'm not stupid though and I keep my gun ready.

"Yeah?" Always a good opener I find, raising my eyebrows at him. He turns shifty blue eyes on me and I wonder if my instincts have let me down.

"Dean?" Okay, so he knows who I am. I find myself looking past him for Sam. Something about him is making me uneasy and the fact I'm having to lean on the door to stay upright isn't helping. I nod slowly, encouraging him to go on. Bizarrely his face crumbles into a façade of relief.

"Oh my god. I heard it got you but I didn't know…" he trails off and it just leaves me wishing, again, that I knew what 'it' is … or was. He shifts his gaze into the room, scanning it nervously. "Is Sam here?" he asks.

I know by all the rules of etiquette that I should be opening the door wide and inviting him to come in, sit awhile and wait for Sam. But I can't. I don't even know his name and that's unsettling for me. He knows I've been hurt, he knows my name, he knows Sam but I don't know anything!

"No." Maybe, on reflection I shouldn't have let on that I'm alone. I'm not exactly playing at the top of my game today and the subtle shift in his eyes is worrying. He smiles and he seems more confident all of a sudden.

"Millie asked me to come by," he states and alarm bells are going off in my head like there's no tomorrow. Millie's dead. Sam told me so and Sam wouldn't lie to me. Would he? Who the hell is this guy? Before I know it, he's pushed past me into the room and my gun is up at pointed directly at his head. I'm pretty proud of the way I can maintain this air of complete control. I'm praying for Sam to get back here fast though because I don't know how long I can keep the gun steady, or even up. He raises his hands and looks at me in amazement.

"Woah. Dean. Calm down, buddy. It's only me." The fear in his voice almost makes me reconsider. Maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe he doesn't know Millie's dead. Maybe if my head would stop pounding I could make more sense of all this.

"Millie's gone." I can't stop myself from blurting out, hating how desperately I want him to deny it, to tell me Sammy got it wrong.

"I know." He's silently furious. I can see it now plain as day and I really, really need Sam to get back here. My gun feels like it weighs a hundred pounds and I wouldn't admit it to anyone but I'm feeling a little scared here. I'm reevaluating my initial assessment of this guy, and damn but I wish I had a name for him. He may be shorter than me but what I originally took as being weedy is actually wiry, which I know can be like tackling fire and ice. And that confidence of his? Funny that didn't come on till he found out that Sammy isn't here.

C'mon Sam. Where are you? I need you here.

I'm trying to back up out through the door without making it obvious when he's right up in my face and his hand is wrapped round my wrist, forcing my hand back in unnatural ways. The gun drops from my lifeless fingers and his other hand is round my throat before I can blink. My back hits the wall with an unnecessary force. I can't help but choke out a groan. He's a hell of a lot stronger than he looks. His face is so close to mine that I can feel his hot breath on my neck as he leans his mouth to my ear.

"You were right," he hisses. "Millie is dead. And you know why?"

No, no I don't and nobody will tell me. But this isn't quite how I wanted to find out. I try to wrench my arm out of his grasp but he's got a good grip. He tightens his grasp and I can feel the bones in my wrist grating together. I grit my teeth to stop from crying out.

"Because of you. Because of you and your damned brother. And now I have to live without her. Do you have any idea how that feels?"

Oh god, I've been ambushed by a spurned lover. Or at least I that's the vibe I'm getting from him. I thought I had a thing going with Millie. Or did I get that wrong too? When this is over I'll find the time to be confused about it but for now I need to get him off me. I'd really like at least one functioning hand and he's cutting off too much air to my system. Things are getting a bit fuzzy round the edges. I'm waving my cast around but it weighs so much my arm is just flopping around uselessly, like a floundering fish.

Just as I think I'm going to lose this battle, and how embarrassing would that be, the pressure is gone from my throat and my wrist is released. I slide inelegantly down the wall, gasping for breath, eyes closed and rubbing my neck with my good hand, although that term is fairly relative at the moment. Through the buzzing in my ears I just catch Sam's voice and the sound of someone being forcibly ejected from the room, followed by the door slamming.

Then Sam is down on the floor with me, prizing my fingers away from my throat and probing the skin gently. I slap his hand away weakly, instantly regretting it when my wrists protests.

"Dude, personal space."

"Dean, what the hell were you thinking, opening the door to him?" Sam's worried, and a little bit pissed – at me.

"He looked harmless?" I offer. I know it's a feeble excuse but I really didn't think he was going to turn. "I didn't know who he was." Sam sits back on his haunches, taking my chin in his hand, turning my head left and right. Just watch the neck there, Sammy, it's a bit tender. He's obviously satisfied because he sighs and pushes himself to his feet. I go to follow suit but he pushes me back down.

"Stay there a minute." He's gone less than two minutes and when he returns he's got an icepack which he expertly wraps round my wrist. Then he grasps my elbow and pulls me to my feet. Propelling me gently forward till we reach the bed, Sam's muttering under his breath. I hate when he does that. It normally means I've done something irritating or stupid. I'm guessing stupid. He lowers me down till I'm sitting on the edge of the bed and stands over me, like he's on guard.

"Are you seriously telling me you didn't remember him?" I just grace him with a look. I'd normally go for sarcasm at this point but my throat feels like I've swallowed a thousand razor blades and I'd rather forgo the effort. Sam sighs, sitting down opposite me. "That was Richard Furst." And still, nothing. No good looking at me like that, Sam, if the face meant nothing to me why is a name going to change all that? "He was Millie's landlord."

Oh, landlord. Not a spurned lover then. So what was with the tortured widower act then? C'mon Sam, give me something more. I raise my head and give him a quizzical look.

"What's he got against me then?" I rasp out. A glass of water magically appears in my hand and I nod gratefully at my brother, who looks like he's about to launch into the retelling of War and Peace. Gotta tell you now, Sammy, I'm only up for the abridged version today.

"He was in love with Millie. Thought he stood a good chance with her until we turned up. I overheard him mouthing off about you to Jed a couple of days ago." Okay, so I was right first time, spurned lover wannabe.

"Jed, huh?" I rifle through the fragments of memory that are coming back in dribs and drabs. "Big guy? Needs a haircut? And a bath?" Sam nods in confirmation. Things are looking up – I'm remembering stuff. Sam coughs, as though wondering whether I'm in any state to take any more bad news. He decides that I am.

"Furst had the bridle." is all he says, and I know, just know, that that's real significant.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam is looking at me as if he's expecting my head to explode, or something. It's not and I want to reassure him of that but I'm still confused as to what I'm supposed to be doing with this latest snippet of information he's deigned to share with me. A bridle. No, not a bridle, the bridle. As if it's one of a kind. Which I suppose it must be.

I'm still more interested in Millie though. I can't get her out of my head. Every so often I think I catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye. I haven't told Sam because he's got enough to worry about. I don't want him hovering over me any more than he already is. In my muddled mind I'm beginning to wonder if she's haunting me. Did I screw up so badly that she's back for revenge? I need to know what happened to her and it's not coming back to me. I'm just going to have to hope Sam wants to share this too.

"Sam. Furst said it was my fault. Millie. What happened to her?" I'm almost reluctant to ask and, by the look on his face, he's reluctant to answer. It's too late now though, the question is out there. No taking it back now even though in the pit of my stomach I'm already dreading the answer.

"He was wrong, Dean. It wasn't your fault. We couldn't stop it. God knows we tried." He sits back and rubs his hand over his face with a soul deep sigh. But he doesn't answer the question, I notice.

"What wasn't my fault, Sam? I don't remember. I need to remember." I'm getting frustrated here and Sam's reticence to tell me anything isn't helping this foreboding feeling growing in my gut.

He gets up and crosses the room. He's nervous, and that makes me nervous. He can tell me it's not my fault all he wants but his body language is screaming otherwise. It's like he can't bring himself to look at me and that scares me more than anything else.

"Please, Sam," I can't believe I'm having to resort to pleading with him like a six year old after some extra cookies. His whole posture has changed. His shoulders have slumped and his head is down. He's got his back to me and I don't like it. "Sam, tell me. I can take it." Bravado might do the trick, might succeed where pitiful begging failed.

"Dean," he's hesitant but it's a start. "I think you should give it a while, see if your memory comes back by itself. Prompting you might make things worse."

No, no, no. This can't be good. He's not going to tell me. How could telling me possibly make things worse? I can't believe this. He's got to tell me.

"No, Sam. You have to tell me. Maybe if you tell me all the other stuff will come back too? I need to remember, Sam. I didn't know about Furst and look where that got me." I'm appealing to his guilt complex now and I know it. It's underhand but I'll take what I can get. That got him. He lifts his head and looks me right in the eye. And it's a good job I'm already sitting down because that look could fell Samson at 90 paces. Suddenly I don't think I'm in such a rush to find out what went down but there's no stopping Sam now.

"Fine. I'll tell you, but you're not gonna like it," a deep sigh, "just remember – it wasn't your fault." The more he says that, the less I believe him. All I can think is 'I killed her, I killed her'. There's a buzzing in my ears and I think it's the sound of my heart pumping the blood through my veins. Sam moves nearer to me and sits on the bed opposite me.

"Millie called us on Tuesday evening…"

"Wait. What day is it today?" How have I managed to get this far without even knowing what day of the week it is?

"It's Thursday, Dean." Crap, I've lost quite a bit of time somewhere. I don't remember Tuesday at all. Or Monday come to that. I must have taken longer to process that than I realized because Sam's looking worried again.

"Maybe we should leave this."

I shake my head, a little too vigorously if I'm honest. "No, I can do this Sam." He raises his eyebrows doubtingly but carries on anyway.

"So, she called Tuesday evening, said things had got worse and could we get over there early…"

"Early? Early for what?"

"Dean." He's looking a little exasperated and I'm sorry, Sammy, but there's so much I don't remember and you're confusing me a little here. "If you're gonna keep interrupting this is going to take all night."

"Sorry." I have the grace to look apologetic. The guy is doing me a favour, after all. I'm just going to have to sit tight and hope it all makes sense at the end.

"We headed out about six. She was waiting for us. She said Furst had been back and he wasn't taking no for an answer. That just pissed you off and before either of us could stop you, you'd gone. We guessed you'd gone to have it out with him."

"He was down by the brook." It hits me like a strong left hook. I'd been so mad at the guy for trying to take advantage of Millie that I'd stormed off, leaving my brother to calm her down. God, was I really that hung up on her? Sam's mouth turns up at the corners in a sad smile.

"Yeah, he was. And that's where we found you. Both of you." He stops and I think he's stalling for time. He rises from the bed and makes his way to the bathroom. My head is reeling from a sudden flood of memory and I barely notice him vanish. Next thing I know there's a glass of water on the nightstand and he's pushing some pills into my hand. He rests his hand on my forehead and I'm too distracted to do anything about it.

"I think I remember, Sammy." I whisper. And I think I really do this time.

_We get to Millie's in record time. I know that she wouldn't have called unless she was really upset about something. She's a strong woman and she doesn't take the damsel in distress role lightly. As we roll up to her home she's waiting for us, the dying sunlight surrounding her like an angel. I need to concentrate on the issue at hand though, there'll be time for mutual admiration later. I hold on to that thought as Sam and I get out of the car. _

_She steps forward and plants a chaste kiss on Sam's cheek before smiling at me and giving me a not so chaste kiss. Sam looks away, smirking, before heading round to the trunk to get whatever he thinks we'll need tonight. Millie stops him though._

"_It's not that sort of problem." she tells us and I look at her properly for the first time this evening. I'm worried to see the slight tremble in her hands and the quaver in her voice. Turns out that son of a bitch landlord of hers has been hassling her again. Sometimes a guy needs to know when to back off, that sometimes 'no' really does mean 'no'. _

_Nobody treats a woman like that when Dean Winchester is around and suddenly I'm not thinking straight. I automatically check that I've got my trusty gun tucked in my waistband and I'm back in the car before Sam or Millie have the opportunity to stop me. Because I know they would, if they could. Sam knows me well enough to know what I'm planning._

_I head straight to Furst's place, not trying to hide my approach. He has some questions that I need answered. I'm not going to be subtle here. I stalk up to the door and pound my fist on it, loud enough to wake the dead. There's some shuffling inside and I can hear voices, urgently discussing 'putting it away somewhere safe' before the door is flung open._

_Jed Barrow is towering over me, meat cleaver held menacingly in his right hand. If I were any less of a man, or had more sense about me, I'd be worried by that , but it's not him my business is with. I've come across him once or twice and he doesn't really feature in my consciousness._

"_Where's Furst?" I don't beat about the bush. I have things to say to that man that can't wait. Jed looks furtive and shifts the meat cleaver from hand to hand in a way I suppose is meant to be menacing but actually just looks silly. I raise an eyebrow at him, letting him know that he doesn't intimidate me._

"_Why?" he's trying to play coy and I can't be bothered with games._

"_None of your business, Jed. It's a personal matter. Now, where is he?" I can almost see the cogs turning in Jed's brain. He's slowly deciding whether it's worth getting into a fight over. I know the instant he's made his decision._

"_Find him yourself." and the door slams shut. _

I don't know when I closed my eyes but when I open them again Sam is sitting next to me on the bed. He's got his hand resting on the small of back and its presence is reassuring and familiar. I realize that my hand has curled into a fist and the rough blanket I've been sitting on is twisted between my fingers. The water on the nightstand has been replaced with a shot glass containing a good measure of whisky. I untangle my hand and down it in one. The liquid hits the back of my mouth like an explosion and burns its way down my throat. I let my hand fall between my legs and Sam gently removes the glass before I drop it.

"You okay?" he asks, softly.

"I'm good," I turn to face him. "Just remembering, that's all." He nods sagely, and turns away from me.

"Maybe we should eat," he suggests, waving at the bags sitting forgotten on the table. It's probably disgustingly cold and congealed by now but I suddenly feel hunger pangs, I haven't eaten since before I left the hospital. Which means Sammy hasn't eaten either. Probably not a good move to have had that whisky but I needed it. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.

"Yeah, maybe." It's a halfhearted reply but Sam takes it at face value. Giving me a patronizing pat on the shoulder, he rises stiffly and I wonder how long he's been sitting there. I watch him cross the room and notice for the first time that he looks tired and defeated. I'm thinking that this hunt has screwed us both somehow.

When he turns back to me his face is a blank slate. He hands me a bag containing a cold pizza and a flat soda. The drink is fairly redundant now that the whisky is out but the pizza, past its best as it is, is surprisingly welcome. I'm expecting him to ask what I've remembered so far but he doesn't. He settles back down, opposite me this time, and makes a show of getting his own food out.

We eat in silence, refilling our shot glasses enough times that by the time we're finished eating, the world has softened round the edges. Sam quietly collects the trash accumulated round us and throws it in the waste bin. The light is dimming outside and it's getting colder in here. I wonder if I can get an extra layer on by myself or whether I'm going to have to rely on Sam to help, and suffer the inevitable mothering that will come with it. Apparently, he's a mind reader because he's turning up the heating in here. Any minute now he's going to tell me to go to bed like a good little boy. If he tries that I'm gonna slap him, injured hand or not.

"Dean," here it comes. Then nothing. Sam's trailed off into silence.

"What?" He looks at me, studies me intently till I think I'm going to have to look away. Then he shakes his head and looks away.

"Nothing. Doesn't matter." He turns away and heads to the small bathroom. I can't help but wonder if I'm going to manage that little task by myself but, hell, I'm a Winchester. I've overcome greater obstacles. Once he's gone I settle back on the cheap motel mattress and my eyes close slowly.

_Furst isn't hard to track. He didn't know I was coming after him and he's made no attempt to hide. I find him at the bottom of the steep hillside, beside the brook skirting the edge of his property and Millie's. He may be a man of the countryside but he's not the most observant of men. I'm nearly upon him before he notices me there. When he does look up I don't think it was me he was expecting._

"_Have you brought it with you?" he starts, before he's realized I'm not whoever he thought I was. I'm bunching my fists. He straightens out, eyes hardening to an ice blue. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demands belligerently. "Get off my property." There's a shovel in his hand and somewhere in the back of mind I file that interesting little piece of information. Why do you need a shovel by a river?_

"_You and I need to clear up a few little things." I tell him and my voice sounds sickly sweet even to my own ears._

"_I got nothing to talk to you about. I thought you knew better than to come back here." I advance on him slowly and I'm gratified to see him backing away from me. His words may be tough but it's all bravado, skin deep at best._

"_I think otherwise." I love how menacing I can sound when I want. The only person who can see through it these days is Sam. Furst looks over my shoulder and I almost turn but Dad trained me better than that. Oldest trick in the book that is, no way I'm going to fall for it. He's nervous now though and that makes him unpredictable, dangerous. I take one more step forward and he swallows audibly. _

_Then he does something I'm really not prepared for. He turns and runs towards the water, screaming at the top of his voice. For a split second, I don't know what to do. He's not stopping and he's in the river before I can move. The water starts to foam around him and I pull up short of the water's edge, watching him with horror. He doesn't seem worried about the activity in front of him but I feel the apprehension building in my chest. I drop to my knees and yell at the top of my voice._

"_Furst! Get out of there. It's not safe!" and it's not. Really, really not. I don't like guy and thirty seconds ago I was ready to blow his head off myself but nobody deserves this._


	6. Chapter 6

I shoot upright on the bed as the memory whirls through my head like a hurricane. I scrunch my eyes closed against the impending headache. I don't realize I'm gasping for breath, or that there is sweat beading on my brow until Sam lays a calming hand on the top of my head. I didn't even know he was back in the room with me. He gently pushes me back on to the mattress and he's murmuring soothing words that I can't quite make out. It's strangely comforting and for a moment I can believe that the world is a safe, happy place. Only for a moment though. The memories vying for first place in my head are disturbing and frightening and, frustratingly, incomplete. It takes me a few minutes to get my breathing back under control and I focus on Sam's hand on my head in an effort to subdue the panic in my chest. Slowly the words he's muttering make their way through my muddled brain.

"It's okay, Dean. You're okay. You're fine. It's finished." over and over and over. Obviously my memories are freaking him out too. Finally I feel able to open my eyes and there he is, hovering over me, keeping watch like a guardian angel I never asked for or wanted. I want to knock his hand away but I can't muster up the energy. Maybe words will work just as well, you never know.

"Get off me, Sam." His hand stills, resting lightly where it is but not being removed.

"You back with me?" Yeah, I'm back, Sam, and I'm in desperate need of the bathroom. The sweat is drying on my skin and I feel dirty and worthless. I need to wash away the futility of my being, need to cleanse myself of the failure I know I am.

"Help me up, dude." God, I think I'm going to need his help after all. He finally moves his hand from my head and takes a firm hold of my shoulder to ease me up, slowly and carefully. The room settles into one place quickly and I don't think the headache is going to come to fruition. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, catching Sam on his shin. He sucks in a little breath but says nothing. Once my feet are on solid ground I ease myself awkwardly forward. I'm already looking forward to getting rid of this damn cast. I shrug out of his hold and haul myself upright. The rooms sways briefly, righting itself before Sam notices my hesitation and I manage to make it to the bathroom unaided.

By the time I'm done, Sam is reclining on his bed, head buried in the local paper. As I get nearer to him, I notice he's checking out the travel section.

"Sam?" It doesn't take more than a raised eyebrow and a quizzical voice to put a sheepish look on his face.

"I thought we could take some time out," he admits. "You're not up to much for the next couple of months and it's been, well, y'know…" he trails off into an uncharacteristic silence.

"No, Sam. I don't know," I hate to admit it but although I'm getting bursts of memory it's still not all there. I know that I didn't like Furst, I know that Jed was trying to hide something from me, I know that Millie is dead because of me and I know that, according to Sam, it's finished. Whatever 'it' was. Sam looks at me and his eyes are full of confusion.

"I thought you were remembering?"

"I am, Sam. Just, not enough." I sigh. Wisps of images are floating around the edges of my mind and I can grasp some of them while others hover, temptingly, just out of reach. Sam is there but I can never see his face. Millie is there, by the water and there, just behind her is something I can't quite make out. It's not human but not quite animal either. Or at least I don't think it is. I can't see it properly. I know whatever it is, it's what we were looking for and I'm guessing that when Sam says 'it's finished' this is what he's talking about.

Obviously Sam thinks I've sunk into a depressive silence because he leans forward and pokes me on the knee.

"Hey," I snap back to attention. "It's late. We should get some sleep." And there it is – the infernal mother hen has come out to play. Although, if truth be told, I am having trouble keeping my eyes open now. Maybe in the morning there'll be more pieces of the puzzle to put in place. Or maybe not. We'll have to wait and see. So I grunt at Sam, don't want him to think I'm giving in too easily, and fall into bed. Sleep isn't far away.

_Furst stumbles till he drops to his knees in the water. I'm still yelling at him to get out. He raises his arms and I stop screaming at him. He's taking no notice of me and there's nothing else I can do. There's no way in hell I'm going near the water. Not with that thing in there, waiting to pounce. _

_I fumble for my phone. I need Sam down here right now. I'm not prepared for this. For the first time I wonder if I should have run off like that. Millie would have been alright and Sam probably has that steel knife safely tucked away in his jacket. What I wouldn't give for that right now. All I have is my .45 and that's as much use as a soggy pancake against this._

_The water is starting to churn and foam. I feel my heart rising in my throat. I know what's coming. I know Furst isn't going to be a problem for Millie, or me, for much longer. I can't help him. All I can do is hope it's quick for him. Part of me is screaming to go and drag him out of the water, out of danger's reach, but my sense of self preservation is holding me back. _

_The water is rising and there it is. My heart stops. This is the first time I've seen it and it takes my breath away. I'm in awe of it's magnificence. Water cascades down its silky black mane as it tosses its head. Spray dances off its back as it shakes itself down and its black eyes fix on Furst. And I know it's over for him._

_I'm so transfixed by what's happening in front of me that I don't hear the branches snapping behind me until it's too late. I feel the cold metal barrel of a gun against the back of my neck. I react instinctively, twisting to get out of the iron grip I'm in. I'm at a disadvantage though and I can't do it. The gun is rammed harder against my skin and I can't stop a little cry escaping. I feel hot breath caressing my ear._

"_What are you doing here?" It's hard to distinguish above the roar of the water and the pounding in my ears but I think it's Jed. I'm not going to grace him with a reply but continue to struggle against his hold. I know, deep down, I'm asking for trouble but surely he can see there are more important issues at hand here?_

_Suddenly he jerks me to my feet and I'm stunned by the sight in front of me. Furst has stopped making any noise and the water is as still as a mirror. He's holding his hand out to the horse which nuzzles him as gently as a kitten. He strokes its nose and it buries its mouth in his hand as though he were feeding it. He turns to look at me, pure disdain dripping from his every pore._

"_What? You thought it would kill me?" he sneers. I've stopped struggling but I have nothing to say. I really, honestly cannot believe what I'm seeing. This is a kelpie, for God's sake. They're amongst the most malevolent creatures known. Sam spent hours teaching me the ins and outs. He wanted to be prepared, wanted to make sure we weren't taken in by it's shape shifting capabilities. Looks like this one's happy to remain in it's 'natural' state._

_There's a sudden change in Furst's demeanour. At first I think he's wrong about the kelpie but then I notice he's looking past me and Jed. My big brother instinct tells me that we've got company and it's the company I could have done with ten minutes ago. A little late to the party, Sammy, but at least you're here now. _

_And, damn it, he's not alone. I hear a sharp intake of breath, followed by a faint, "Richard?" I'm furious with Sam. What the hell was he thinking, bringing Millie with him? Could he have had a worse idea? Jed is obviously thinking the same thing because he's pulling me round to face Sam and Millie. He takes about a millisecond to decide that Sam's gun is the bigger danger here because he shifts his grip from the back of my collar to across my throat. I'm effectively being used as his shield and the gun is now grazing the side of my head._

_On the plus side, I now have a front row seat for the show that's unfolding in front of me. Sam has pushed Millie behind him and is standing tall and imposing, gun held rock steady in his hand. His eyes flicker between Jed and Furst, trying to establish who is the bigger threat. He settles on Jed and his aim shifts slightly to cover him. I know Sam doesn't have a clear shot at him, he's been too crafty for that, but maybe it'll unnerve him enough so he'll make a mistake. I can feel Jed's chest rising and falling against my back and I can tell from the change in his breathing that Sam's made the right call. The big man is getting anxious. I don't think he was expecting this turn of events. We can work with this._

"_Let him go, Jed." That's my Sam. I'm proud of the determination in his voice. It's his 'not taking any crap' voice. That boy can be downright scary when he puts his mind to it. Jed's not the sharpest knife in the drawer though and I feel him shake his head._

"_Why would I do that?" He really needs an answer to that? Because if you don't, Sammy here is going to blow your head off. He tightens his hold round my neck, forcing my head up. Sam's eyes are seeking mine out now and I read the question in them._

"_Take the shot, Sam," I'm okay with that because this asshole is seriously pissing me off now. And because I know Sam won't do it. But Jed doesn't. _

_Just when I think there's a way out of this, Millie pops out from behind Sam and throws everything into disarray._

The blinking lights of the clock on the wall tell me it's 5.17am. I must have needed to sleep more than I realised. Sam is snoring gently and I don't want to wake him. The dream that woke me has left me shaken and slightly sick. It's all coming back to me – Millie, Furst, Jed, Sam. And the kelpie. The room is suddenly stifling, the air is pushing at me till my head feels like it's going to explode. I need to get out, I need to get away from here. I can't explain the rationale behind it, but I need to go to the river bank. I know I can't drive and the walk from here is too far. I'm going to have to wait for Sam but somehow I don't think he's going to understand this compulsion I have to go back to where Millie died.

I take the time to have a good look at him. He's got one arm flung over the edge of the bed, fingers grazing the carpet, foot sticking out from under the blanket. His face actually looks peaceful. There's a slight smile on his lips and I wonder what he's dreaming of. It's been a long time since I've seen that look on his face. Once upon a time he slept like that every night. Before the nightmares, before Jess.

I try not to disturb him as I quietly open the door to the room, grabbing my jacket in the process. It closes behind me with a gentle click. Normally Sam would be up like a shot at the noise but there's no noise, no shuffling coming from the other side so I guess he's as shattered as I am.

The early morning air is cold and sharp. I pull my jacket round me as best I can and settle myself on the shallow step to watch the sunrise. My breath mists in front of my face and I spend a few minutes watching the clouds issuing from my mouth and nose, wondering what shapes I can make. I try to make smoke rings from the vapour and when that doesn't work I pretend to be a steam train, just for a few seconds. The sun is slowly making its way over the horizon, turning the sky into pink candyfloss and I think that perhaps I should take more time to appreciate what nature has to offer. Sam and me? We spend so much time chasing after the supernatural that it's sometimes hard to remember that there are good things in the world too. I don't think Sam has ever completely lost his childlike wonder at the world, but me? I can't remember ever not knowing that there was evil out there.

I don't know how long I've been out here but it doesn't seem to be as cold as it was and the sun is almost fully up. Suddenly a steaming mug of coffee appears in front of me and, God, I must be really off my game to have not even noticed Sam behind me. I accept it silently and his fingers brush my hand as I take the cup. His hands are warm, or may be I've been out here so long I just can't feel my own any more.

He settles himself companionably next to me on the step, wrapping both hands around his own coffee. He blows on the steaming liquid before lifting it to his lips. I turn my head away from him, not really wanting to break the peace, but questions are popping up left, right and centre in my head. If I don't get the answers to some soon I think my head might just split open.

"Hey, Sam?" he casts a sideways glance at me.

"What?" Don't sound so worried, Sammy. I'm not going to put you through the Spanish Inquisition here. Just need some help to fill in a few of the gaps.

"Why did you bring Millie?" His whole demeanour changes instantly. It's like his life force has left home. He turns his gaze on the sky and he's silent for, oh, so long. Just as I'm beginning to worry, he sighs and drops his head.

"She insisted," he tells me. "I didn't want her to come but …" and he trails off. It doesn't matter though. I know Millie did what she wanted and everyone else be damned. I'm sure Sam put up a good fight but he's never been that good with distraught women and I bet she played right into that. "She was going to go after you anyway, Dean. With or without me. What could I do?" And the answer to that is 'nothing'. There would have been absolutely no stopping her. Sam's feeling guilty but he was on a damage limitation exercise by bringing her with him. And that is something I can completely understand. I just wish I had it in me right now to make him feel better about his decision. I wish I could pull myself out of this pit of despair I find myself in.

"I'm sorry, Sam," It's not much but I need to give him something.

"For what?" he sounds genuinely puzzled. I mull the words over in my head. There are so many things I'm sorry for here. I'm sorry I ran off without thinking, I'm sorry I didn't stop Furst going in the water, I'm sorry I let Jed get the drop on me, I'm sorry you had to bring Millie and I'm sorry I got her killed.

"I'm sorry for everything, Sammy, really sorry."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: This has been a bitch of a chapter to write and I'm still not entirely happy with it. I've hit a brick wall with it now though so if you can see anything hideous in it, let me know.**

* * *

_Millie's not one for being told what to do. She strides confidently past Sam, past Jed and me and stops by the water's edge. Jed hasn't moved so I can't see what she's doing now but I can see Sam's face and he's not happy by this new turn of events. _

"_What are you doing, Richard?" she asks. _

"_Millie?" Furst sounds like he's surprised to see her here. He's been so intent on that __damned kelpie and Sam that he's not noticed her before. "What are you doing here? Go home." And for once I agree with him._

_Sam's got that 'Sammy' look on his face, the one that's a combination of worried and pissed. He's got his head tilted to one side, eyebrows scrunched together and I really want Jed to turn round so I can see what's going on. I can sense that Millie isn't going to back down and right now Furst isn't the man she thinks. I need to do something but Jed's grip on my neck and the gun is unwavering. His confidence is returning and that's not good for me._

"_Millie." I have to try something but Sam gives an imperceptible shake of his head. Jed doesn't even notice it but it sends shards of ice into my heart. If Sam doesn't want me to interfere he's got a good reason but not being able to see is killing me. I know this is going to hurt but I can't stand this anymore. I bring one foot back sharply, kicking Jed on his shin with the heel of my boot. I'm in luck. He's been distracted by Millie's break from cover and I take him by surprise. He grunts and drops slightly on the other leg. Unfortunately his grip on me doesn't give and he ends up pulling me down. The tenuous hold I have on my balance disappears and my neck is taking the full brunt of my weight. Now would be a really good time to make your move, Sammy._

_Sam doesn't miss a heartbeat. He shifts his grip on his gun and takes the shot. It's not the move I was expecting but I trust Sam. He wouldn't have done it if he'd thought for one minute he might hit me but I can't help flinching as the bullet whizzes past my ear and embeds itself in Jed's shoulder. He cries out in pain and shock as the force spins him around, dragging me with him to the ground as he falls. Finally he lets me go and I roll away from him as fast as I can, gaining my feet on the way. My gun is out and in my hand before I realise I'm fully upright._

_Millie and Furst don't seem to have noticed the activity behind them. I leave Sam to check and secure Jed and move forward cautiously. Furst is an unknown quantity and I'm not going to do anything to put Millie in any more danger than she's managed to do for herself. She's standing right at the water's edge and my heart climbs into my throat. Furst is still in the water, his hand slowly petting the beast next to him. He's looking at Millie in a way I really don't like. Why can't he understand that she's not interested in him. And why doesn't that damn kelpie take him down? What has he done to it, or, more worryingly, what has he done to himself to command this obedience?_

"_You should have stayed away, Millie," he reiterates. She shakes her head, her long hair swinging from side to side. "People get hurt down here. Go home." Oh and how I'm agreeing with the jerk here. Please, Millie. I know you don't like him, or trust him, but please, please, for once, listen to him._

"_What are you doing Richard?" her voice is soft, gentle and sad. "How did you tame it?"_

_I do what Sam always calls my comedy double-take at that. She knows what it is? How come she never mentioned that little gem before? You been holding out on me, sugar? As I watch the little scene in front of me my inside voice is nagging me to get Millie away from the water. Sam's moving up behind me, gun out so now Furst has two weapons pointed at him. But he doesn't care. _

"_Millie," I try to get her attention but s__he's oblivious to anyone else around her. Sam and I might as well be back in Kansas for all the notice she's paying to us._

"_How did you do it, Richard?" she prompts when no answer is forthcoming. Furst looks sickeningly proud as he strokes the kelpie fondly, resting his forehead against its strong neck._

"_I found it," he announces, as though that makes everything clear. And I guess to everyone else, it does. I hear a sharp intake of breath from behind me._

"_Sam?" I ask. I hate being out of the loop like this. By the change in Millie's stance I know she understands the significance of his statement too. Looks like it's just me in the dark here then._

"_He's got the bridle." Sam voice is full of defeat. _

"_You got the bridle," Millie voice is full of horror._

"_I found the bridle," Furst confirms and I wish now I'd paid more attention to Sam's kelpie lessons. I vaguely recall him talking about the bridle and the way he's holding himself now, I'm guessing it wasn't in a good way. Even Jed is grunting and rolling away from the water as best he can. My legs feel like they're set in cement as I watch Furst slowly wade towards the bank, towards Millie. I hear Sam hiss at Millie from behind me, warning her to move back. But she's a headstrong girl and she won't listen to you, Sammy, not unless she wants to. The kelpie is at his heels and it's snorting through its nostrils. The water is starting to churn and foam gently at its heels. Furst doesn't seem bothered by it and Millie only has eyes for the kelpie. She's almost hypnotised by it and that can't be good._

_I need to think. I need to get my feet to move. I need Sam to get Millie away from Furst and his damned pet._

"_Sam," I throw my voice behind me and instantly Sam is at my side. "What do we do?" God, I sound so pathetically helpless. I know there's no shame in admitting I don't know what to do but my inner macho man is cringing at the same time. I hear the rustle of fabric and then he nudges my arm, pressing the knife into the hand I reach out to him. The steel blade is razor sharp and I wonder how Sam managed to keep it so cold._

_Without thinking I slip my gun away and raise the knife in my hand. The kelpie senses something is wrong, maybe it can smell steel, or maybe its eyesight is as sharp as the knife I'm wielding. Whatever the reason, it turns away from Furst and stares at me. It's an odd feeling. I've never been stared down by a horse before. Demons, yes. Spirits, yes. Witches, yes. Even a goblin on one occasion. But never by a horse. It's as still and magnificent as a marble statue and I feel the first hint of foreboding. But I can't go back now. I have the knife and it's seen me._

_Furst seems to realise what's happening and he's not happy. He lets out an indistinguishable cry which could be of anger or fear. I don't know and right now I don't care. All I care about is putting this creature back where it came from. And I don't mean the river bed. Furst lunges forward, holding on to the neck of the kelpie as it launches into a full blown gallop. Directly at me. In the distance I hear Sam shout my name, mingling with Millie's own scream as they try to warn me. No warning needed – I see it. It's right there, and it's moving impossibly fast._

_I don't have time to get the knife higher than my shoulder before the kelpie head butts me, hard, in the chest. As the air leaves my lungs in a whoosh, I just manage to bring my arm down and scrape the blade along the creature's neck. I listen an unholy screech filling the air as I fall backwards, landing hard on my hip, head bouncing off the soft mud. Momentarily dazed I watch in horror as Millie flings a hand out to grasp Furst by the sleeve. That's all I have time to see before Sam's hand is on my collar, pulling me backwards across the ground. I'm trying to catch my breath but that horse has a hard head and it knows how to use it._

_Next thing I know, Sam has let me drop to the ground and is off, crossing the distance between me and Millie. I can hear the sounds of a scuffle and the words I hear coming out of Millie's mouth would make a sailor blush. But I don't have time to worry about them. The kelpie is standing above me, kicking at the ground and daring me to stand up._

_Never let it be said that Dean Winchester doesn't take a dare. But the sharp pain shooting through my chest has me gasping for air all over again and rapidly brings me back down to my knees. I raise my head to see the kelpie tossing its head in triumph and pawing the ground with its forelegs. I try to scramble backwards from its advance but the wet ground is hindering my progress. I need to keep hold of the knife but that takes one of my hands out of commission. I'm slipping and sliding and that damn horse is taunting me, stepping forward every time I make progress. Sam can't help me. I don't know what's going on with Furst but I can hear the sound of fists landing on flesh, grunts and curses and Millie shouting at Sam or Furst, or maybe both of them._

_I finally gain purchase with my feet and, with all I've got, I throw myself at the kelpie, knife firmly gripped in one hand, the other stretched out in front of me, protecting ribs I hope are just bruised but feel like more. My hand makes contact with its flank. I plunge the knife down towards its neck. Just as the blade finds its mark though the kelpie twists violently to the side. I lose my hold on the knife and watch helplessly as it flies towards the water. The moment is frozen. I hear Sam shout my name. I dare not take my eyes off the beast but Millie's voice cuts through my concentration and I can't stop myself glancing at the scene to my left. _

_Sam has manoeuvred himself so he's standing between Millie and Furst. Furst isn't happy about that and he's dropped to a fighter's crouch.__ Sam was obviously quicker though because he's got his gun trained on him and nobody over there is moving much._

_That glance costs me a lot. If I could go back and do things again I'd trust Sam to deal with whatever Millie's screaming about. But I haven't done that and when I hear a soft whinnying I know I've just made one of the biggest mistakes of my life. As if in slow motion I turn my head back to the creature in front of me, my eyes tracking it's movement. It rears up on its hind legs, tossing its mane. Before I can move, before I can think, it pitches back down to earth. But it's moved forward. One of the front hooves catches me solidly in the chest. I fall back. The pain in indescribable. I can't breath. My eyes are tearing up. I'm trying to cough but I have no breath to spare. I land on back. I just have time to be thankful that the ground is relatively soft when the sharp rock I've landed on registers in my consciousness. I let out a cry of pain and frustration. How could I have been so stupid as to let my guard down like that? The knife isn't even in sight and Sam drilled it into me, over and over, that the only chance we had against this thing was steel. _

_I try to scramble backwards, away from danger but somehow I've got turned around and I'm heading down to the water's edge. I don't want to be there. This is a water beast. I don't want to give it any advantage. God knows, I have little enough going for me here as it is. The kelpie springs forward and I hear my arm splinter before I feel it. It leaves its leg on my arm until I see white spots in front of my eyes. Through the pounding in my head I hear Sam and Millie. Sam is running. He stops for a fraction of a second to scoop up the knife I dropped. I can hear my heart beating and feel the blood pulsing through my veins. I feel the impact of the knife as Sam thrusts it into the kelpie. It's a direct hit and as the horse falls to the side Sam grabs me and tries to haul me out of range. My vision greys as my arm hits a boulder on the ground. I grunt in pain. I can't help it – I know Sam is doing his best but I don't know how long I can hold on to consciousness or the contents of my stomach. _

_Just as I think I'm safe, the kelpie's muscles spasm in its death throws. __A sturdy leg flies towards me and my last thought as a metal shod hoof careens towards my head is that it's gonna hurt. A lot._


	8. Chapter 8

I don't realise I've zoned out till Sam's hand falls heavily on my shoulder. He's obviously been trying to get my attention for a while. His eyebrows are pulled together, creasing his forehead. I've told him before that's the way to put years on his face, but he never listens. I stretch my legs out in front of me and roll my shoulders, working out the kinks in them and dislodging his hand in the process.

"You do know it wasn't your fault, don't you Dean?" I'm guessing this isn't the first time Sam's made that statement. I have to admit that now my memories are back, for the first time I don't really know. I still don't actually know how Millie died. I thought I'd remember what happened but it turns out I wasn't even conscious at the time. Maybe it wasn't my fault directly but if I hadn't run off like a crazed lunatic she wouldn't have felt the urge to come after me. She wouldn't have been anywhere near the river. She would still be living out her days in her farmhouse, raising chickens or whatever people do in farmhouses.

"I don't know what I know, Sam." I lower my head and gaze into my coffee cup, as though all the answers are in the bottom of the dregs. Things are never that easy though and after a few minutes silence Sam sighs a deep sigh. The one that usually signifies the start of a well rehearsed and often repeated lecture. Turns out this is no different.

"Furst killed her," he states and the information hits me like a sledge hammer. It's a good job I'm sitting down because that's the sort of news that could floor Goliath. I feel the blood draining from my face and it must be apparent to Sam because that hand is back, this time between my shoulder blades and I can't help leaning back a little, taking what support and comfort from it I can. I feel slightly lightheaded and Sam is gently pushing me forward till my head is resting on my knees. It's not the most dignified position but it's still early enough for nobody to be about to witness it. When my world stops spinning, when I'm ready to hear the rest of the story I wave my good hand feebly at Sam, signalling him to continue. He gets the message and although I can tell he's reluctant to carry on, he knows me well enough not to resist.

"Furst was mad at you, at both of us, for destroying the kelpie. Long story short, he wanted to kill us and Millie got in the way, literally."

Okay, so that really is cutting a long story short. I was hoping for a little more information there, Sammy. How did Millie get in the way? I thought Furst was unarmed. Unless… Oh shit. My gun. What happened to my gun? I thought it was safely tucked away in my waistband. I wasn't that careless with it, was I? C'mon Sammy. You need to elaborate for me here. I raise my head and stare at him. There's no way he can possibly misinterpret that look. And he doesn't. There's that sigh again.

"She slipped on the river bank." He really doesn't want to go over this, I can tell. Casting a glance at his face, I'm shocked by what I see there. Sorrow and remorse are written all over his features. His eyes are dark and downcast. "I couldn't get to her in time, couldn't catch her. Her neck snapped, Dean. It was all over in a matter of seconds." He pauses for a minute. "I'm so sorry, Dean. So sorry."

It's all I can do not to break down like a school girl. She slipped. How could that kill her? I fell on that river bank myself. I'm still here. Where's the justice in that? I don't understand. I can't understand.

"Sam?" I sound pathetic, I know that. I need Sam to explain this to me. In really simple terms. All I can hear in my head are those words, 'she slipped'. People slip all the time. They bang their heads, they break their arms, they bruise their egos. What they don't do, is die.

The hand he still has resting on my back is moving in small, gentle circles. Through the numbness in my body and heaviness in my heart, the contact is welcome. I try to draw some strength from him, I don't want him to stop, to move away. I study my hand intently, idly wondering where that drop of moisture on the back of it came from. Its joined by another, then another and, mortified, I realise that I'm crying. Somewhere in the distance I can hear Sam murmuring soft platitudes.

"It's okay, Dean. It's okay." Seems I've heard that before. I desperately want to pull myself together but it's an insurmountable task at the moment. I scrub at my face, altogether too hard. I don't even realise how hard I'm doing it until Sam gently wraps his hand round my wrist and pulls my arm down. He leans in towards me until his arm bumps against my shoulder and rests there. In any other circumstances I'd be making a sarcastic remark about it, but here and now, this is what I need. Trust Sam to know me better than I probably know myself.

"How did it happen, Sam?" I can barely get the words out. I'll never know how he manages to understand me. I guess it's a family thing. Sam is reluctant to say anything and the pause is so long I wonder if he's going to deny me this final piece of the puzzle.

"When you went down, when it got you in the head, I thought… we all thought you were dead. Furst was happy and that, that got to me. I didn't know which way to go. I wanted to check you and I wanted to kill him. I guess what Dad taught us paid off, family first." He shrugs sheepishly. "I went to you. Millie was distraught. She screamed – a lot. At Furst, at you, at Jed, at anyone in earshot." He stops. Whether he's trying to remember or whether he's trying to soften the story for me, I'll never know. I'm concentrating on the warmth seeping through my shirt where his arm is still resting. When he picks up the story his voice has dropped a level. Nobody else would notice it but I know my little brother inside out and back to front. He's trying to shield me from whatever happened back there.

"Millie wouldn't believe me when I told her you were alive. She accused Furst of murdering you and kinda threw herself at him. He lashed out at her, caught her in the face. That's when she lost her footing. She fell so quick, Dean, she probably never even knew what happened."

And that was it, apparently. Sam goes on quickly to tell me how Furst fled the scene, not even stopping to free up Jed. How he tried to revive Millie. How he knew from the angle of her head that it was a pointless exercise. How he couldn't think about stopping Furst. How he had to get us out of there, leaving Millie behind. He tells me that he made the appropriate anonymous calls when he got me to the hospital, once he knew I'd be okay. He tells me that he called the police and the rescue services, even though he knew Millie was dead and Jed, if he had any sense, would be long gone by the time anyone got there. He did everything by the book. He did what I would have done. He did it right.

So why don't I feel any better?

There are some things that my muddled mind still doesn't get. Why did Furst come by the motel when I got out of the hospital? He must have waited till he saw Sam leave. What he was hoping to accomplish I don't know. I guess I'll never know. Part of me wants to hunt him down. Make him pay for what he's done. But a bigger part of me wants to leave this place, leave behind all the hurt and grief. Part of me is telling me that this is what you get for getting too close to someone. Sam never understood why I keep my distance. Maybe now he's got a clue.

Maybe now he understands why, when it comes to the crunch, it's his hands I put myself in.

* * *

**A/N: So, that's it. My first multi chapter story. Thank you to everyone who stuck with it. I'd love to know what you think of it, good or bad - reviews make my day. **


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